The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1887-06-10
misrell
MULLIGAN'S GHOST.
Youths Companion.

1Ou, MuluOOn, you DctteT nllcn up me
critters, and take them bags Of corn to mill.
l jest want you to remember that old Lyle
au't got any Call to take his toll out Of this
here lot. lie owes me for barrel of meal
since last griudin."
"Irs moighty late it is TO go to mill now,
Misther Bell" Pat Muldoon answered. LIE
was tall, gawky Irish lad. with nouc OF the
national quickness aud humor visible in his
long, solemn face. It's purity nigh the sun
settin' now, I'm thinkin'. It's four mile to
mill, and I'll be comm back long after the
dark"
at aint long past four O'clock" said the
farmer, "and I'd Jest like to know what's the
dark goin' TO do ter you? IT saves time to
send late; and then l reckon you'll come
back heap quicker fur old Muigan's ghost
ut yer heels"
Farmer Bell laughed dcrisively as he spoke,
for in all that neighborhood he was probably
the only individual who did not believe i'm
plicitly in Mulligan's ghost
Anyway, Mudoon," he laughed, 'ef he
does come up with you, you'll understand his
lingo, fur he wos Irish too, MS well as you,
ami ghosts always talk in their mother
tongue. Maybe, too, as you're a countryman,
he'll be wilin' to tell you whar he hid all his
money, fur not dime has turned up. Ask
him, Muldoon, when he comes tlOatn' up ter
you u
Muldoon shivered, and could not even
smile at the farmers uproarious mirth.
And FL be afther takin' Lion, sur" he
said, as he turned to obey the orders of his
employer.
you'll be after doing no such thing. Old
Lytle complained of the dog last time you
took him. He raised Cain among the old
woman's chickens. You'll not unite the
dog"
Muldoon's heart sank as Inc hitched up the
mules, with Lions impatient bark and howl
as discordant accompaniment He was an
immense mastitf, and accustomed to follow
the boy wherever he went. Muldoon felt
that the dog would be company and protec-
ton in the dreary ride he was about to take
through the ghost-haunled forest, for he be-
leved fully in the ghost.
1t was not u very long ride, but 1t lay
through barren stretch of pine woods,
rising into hills, which descended into dark
ravines thickly grown up with underbrush
and gloomy magnolias. Halfway TO the mill
stood the Mulligan farm, the only vestige of
human habitation on his road. Terrible
stories were told about that tumble-down
cabin, and most of the superstitious neigh
bors would go mile out of the road to avoid
passing the place
Old Mulligan had come there some years
before. A morose, silent old man, who held
no intercourse with his neighbors, and lived
entirely alone. He always seemed to have
Splenty of money and though no one was
ever invited into the house. they all knew it
was furnished only with such things as were
absolutely necessary. The moody old mans
language, when he did speak, was that of an
educated man, and his clothing, though
fbraalha pF Gpa tay Ha ali ,x,a1
aborers for his fields, though, as said be-
fore, they never entered his dwelling or even
the yard around IL.
II was one of those men who, when the
master failed TO appear for two days, sum-
moned up courage to knock at the door. No
answer, and not a sound to be heard.
When the men, now thoroughly alarmed,
effected al entrance, they found old Mulligan
dead, by his own hand an evidently pre-
meditated act, for he was carefully dressed in
a new suit of black broadcloth. On the table
near was thirty dollars, wrapped in paper
ON which was written, This will bury me.
Lay me under the oak-tree in the yard"
This was all. Not another line of writing
was found in the house, and not another cent
of money, though it was well known he had
made good crops and spent nothing His
furniture was of the meanest, yet many valu-
uDlC DOOho WCIC iOuuus 4NotulhB, uoWGNtG,
was discovered that would help to reveal who
he really was, and where lie came from. If
he had friends and relatives they did not an
swer any of the advertisements put in the
county newspapers, and, as no one 10 that
county was willing to buy the property, sad
died as it was with ghost, the farm went
gradually to ruin. II it had not been tor the
ghost, the very name of the man would have
persisted from the memory of the community.
Muldoon would have given much to avoid
the house, but the only wagon-road in that
vicinity led directly in front of it. When he
arrived opposite, with kind of timid curl
osity he pulled up, and took long look at
the desolate scene.
The afternoon sun was shining brightly,
but it did not seem to bring warmth TO the
cherries place. Fences were rotting on the
ground, and overgrown with briers the doors
and shutters of the cabin had fallen, and
looked like eyeless sockets, through which
you could see the weed -choked fields beyond.
A sudden impulse came upon Muldoon to
peep in the cabin, and see how everything
looked there. 1t is an impulse which fire.
uuently moves towards to meet something
dreaded half way.
"An' I'll jest be after takin' little peep,"
Muldoon muttered, as he sprang from the
cart, his heart beating with nervousness.
"Tbe sun is shinin'sand maybe il l see wild
my two eyes that there's nothin' 10 there,
won't be so scared comm back"
AS he stepped on the porch, the rustic of
the dead leaves under his feet gave him
strong inclination to take to his heels and fly,
but he forced himselfto enter the cabin and
look around. Nothing there, but lizards
skurrying over the leaf-strewn floor, and
cobwebs covering wall and ceiling. The
floor was rotting, and the chimney had fallen
in.
Where the brick hearth once stood, there
yawned black gulf; and Muldoon, gazing
down into its depths, heard sudden stir,
and two fiery points of light seemed to spring
from the darkness.
The boy gave wild shrek, and dashed out
of the cabin in long leaps, which quickly